


Watching Him

by semaphoredrivethru



Series: Watching [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-13
Updated: 2004-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semaphoredrivethru/pseuds/semaphoredrivethru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What draws my attention to Viggo’s smile is that he can never just smile; it’s as if he has to chuckle at the very least.  Life amuses Viggo and he is one of the most peaceful people I have ever seen.  He actually seems content to be by himself and when the rest of his costars are going out and painting the town, I imagine Viggo staying in, contemplating the nature of the universe.  Except for one other thing that I see when I watch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching Him

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Saturn92103

I have been watching Viggo.

When he smiles I can see the gaps between his teeth, but that’s not really what I notice. What draws my attention to Viggo’s smile is that he can never _just_ smile; it’s as if he has to chuckle at the very least. Life amuses Viggo and he is one of the most peaceful people I have ever seen. He actually seems content to be by himself and when the rest of his costars are going out and painting the town, I imagine Viggo staying in, contemplating the nature of the universe. Except for one other thing that I see when I watch him.

If I want to be specific, I don’t watch Viggo. I watch Viggo watch Orlando. When Orlando gets tangled in his wig, and struggles to get free without dislodging his glued-on ears, I am right there, doing my job of preserving his makeup and wardrobe. But I keep getting distracted by how Viggo drinks in each shift of muscle and every not-so-quietly muttered curse that spills from Orlando’s distractingly beautiful mouth. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get fired at this rate, but I still can’t stop.

Sometimes, on the very few days he’s not shooting, Viggo comes to the set anyhow. He crosses his arms and ankles, and then leans against light scaffolding, a silent shadow that I can’t look away from. Except for when Orlando breaks character and laughs; he has the kind of laugh where he throws his head back and opens his mouth wide and you just _have_ to laugh with him. Then Viggo unfolds and walks over to Orlando, as casual as can be, if you don’t notice the rolling prowl underneath the ambling gait he shows the rest of the world.

And I certainly do notice it.

He has started standing within reach of Orlando’s casual touches, not bothered anymore at how Orlando seems to have no concept of personal space. Sometimes, Orlando must say something that is a private joke to them, because Viggo will smile, laugh, and then scratch the stubble on his jaw as though embarrassed at having shown his sense of humor in public. Then Orlando will drape an arm over Viggo’s shoulder, and the shoulder of whoever is standing with them, and draw them in for a laughing, one-armed hug. But even if it’s just the two of them, Orlando only uses one arm to grab Viggo. It’s just as well, because sometimes the laughter falls off Viggo’s face for only a fraction of a second, and he looks like a starving man being shown a banquet he can never touch.

Viggo isn’t the only one I watch. And I see much more than everyone else there, too. But I don’t say anything as I watch. I just do my job, fetch spirit gum, stain wipes and safety pins. I bring powder and makeup emergency kits and I try to stop the Hobbits from putting their swords through their cloaks yet again because I’ll have to make the replacements if they do.

But when things are moving smoothly, I have a little bit of free time. Not enough to do much other than take a few deep breaths. But it’s enough time to grab a spot on a prop case carrying a bunch of Orc weapons, swing my legs back and forth a few times, and watch.

I also watch Orlando. As a personal preference, I have always gone for men my age with wild dark hair and nice smiles, so watching Orlando is no great hardship for me. His face is mobile, ready with a goofy grin for anyone he knows. When he is in front of the camera I marvel at how he can hold back from just _being him_. I suppose that is why he is the actor and I am just the wardrobe lackey. 

Orlando walks lightly, as though he has springs in the heels of his shoes, except for at the end of the very long days. On those days, when he has been riding horses, leaping, jumping, and shooting his bow at imaginary enemies, his walk is much more sedate, and he falls in step easily with Viggo as they go to clean up and change for the day. When they walk next to each other they often talk animatedly with hand gestures and laughter. Sometimes, if they walk near me, I hear them making plans for later; there is a pub in town that is the favorite for cast and crew alike.

Once, when I knew they were going to go to the pub, I made sure to head there for my supper, instead of my usual peanut butter and jelly and ramen noodles. I got there before anyone else so I had a chance to grab one of the tables at the back; the perfect spot for watching the door. It was a Friday night, so it wasn’t long before the pub began filling up with locals and film crew all rubbing elbows and greeting one another with familiarity. The Hobbits arrived first, laughing and teasing each other.

Eventually I looked back over at the table of cast members. Sean had gone; most likely to get home to his wife and daughter. Dom and Elijah were playing a game of pool and Billy was trying to give advice on what shots to take. I smiled at the sight; all Billy was accomplishing was getting in the way.

Viggo and Orlando were sitting at the table laughing at Billy’s antics as they finished their pints. Viggo stood and began weaving his way to the bar, dodging a game of darts and several couples dancing to the slow song playing on the ancient juke box that provided all the music for the pub. As he waited patiently for the harried bartender to get to him, I looked over to Orlando. What I saw stole my breath for a handful of heart-stopping moments.

Orlando was watching Viggo. His normally mobile face was still, his mouth – usually upturned in at least a hint of a smile – was relaxed and straight, and his eyes were hooded as he tracked Viggo from across the room. As I watched, two vertical lines formed above his eyebrows as they moved down and closer. Out of character, I had only seen that look on Orlando when he was discussing an important point with PJ.

Then as suddenly as it had come, the look fled Orlando’s face and his eyes lit up with laughter. Viggo rejoined him, two full pints in hand ready to war for space with the empty glasses on the small table. Viggo sat across from Orlando, and saluted his friend before drinking deeply. He closed his eyes as he drank missing the lingering look Orlando gave him from over the edge of his own glass.


End file.
